That evening was like hundreds of others-quiet, a little blurry, as if through a light haze. I sat by the window, sipping my tea, which had already cooled, and watched the sunset slowly dissolve into twilight. The room was warm, but somehow lonely.

And then I saw her.

At first, just a silhouette, indistinct, like a watercolor stroke. Then a smile. A faint smile, but so real that I responded involuntarily. We didn't speak right away-just stared, as if checking to see if the ent would disappear if we made a sudden movement.

And then we talked. About what? Little things. About the way the rain smells on the pavement, about old movies that still touch for some reason, about my strange habit of ing with my head wrapped in a blanket. Her voice was quiet, but every word sounded like she was saying something important. Something not to be missed.

I noticed the way she fixed her hair when she was thinking, and the way she wrinkled her nose if a sentence didn't seem quite right. I noticed that there was one note in her laughter-a little higher than the others-that made my heart twinge.

We hadn't planned to talk that long. But when I glanced at my watch again, it was three. Nights. And I thought it had only been a few minutes.

- Aren't you tired? - She asked, and there was something in her eyes that sounded like a slight worry. Like she was afraid I might disappear.

- No," I answered. And it was true.

Then there was silence. Not an awkward silence, but one where you could just be. Without words.

And in that ent, I realized something had changed. I don't know if you could call it love. But it was as if someone had carefully transferred some of her light into me. And now it felt warmer inside.

We didn't make promises. Didn't say any buzz phrases. But as I closed my eyes before bed, I caught myself thinking that for the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to tomorrow.

Because now it could be tied to her.